Song of Myself (Part 14) - Walt Whitman
Nature’s Creatures and Our Common Unity
The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation;
The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close,
Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.
The sharp-hoof’d moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog,
The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats,
The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings,
I see in them and myself the same old law.
The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,
They scorn the best I can do to relate them.
I am enamour’d of growing out-doors,
Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods,
Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses,
I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.
What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,
Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me,
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,
Scattering it freely forever.
In Part 14 of “Song of Myself,” Walt Whitman broadens our vision of kinship among living beings. Beginning with the wild gander’s call—an invitation, not mere noise—he demonstrates that what might seem trivial or commonplace can hold profound significance when truly heard.
Whitman includes an array of creatures: moose, cats, chickadees, and barnyard animals, all bound by “the same old law.” This reflects his idea that humans are never separate from the rest of nature. Whether it’s the sow with her litter or a turkey-hen guiding her brood, these images of nurturance echo our own capacity for care and connection.
A central theme is the poet’s admiration for those living “out-doors,” such as sailors, woodcutters, and ranchers. These laborers coexist intimately with the land and sea, and Whitman sees in them a vital, unpretentious spirit. By stating he can “eat and sleep with them week in and week out,” he signals his own commitment to breaking down false barriers between classes or types of work.
The section ends by proclaiming that what is “commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest” is essentially the poet himself—an ordinary abundance available to anyone. In distributing his spirit “freely forever,” Whitman frames life as an act of both receiving and giving: we draw in the world around us, then offer ourselves back to it. This principle leads us to see that each daily gesture—stepping on the earth, listening to an animal’s cry—participates in an infinite web of existence. Ultimately, Part 14 invites us to embrace our kinship with nature and our neighbors alike, reveling in a shared life where the small and the grand are seamlessly woven together.
Key points
• Even the simplest animal sounds convey deeper meaning if we truly listen.
• Humans and creatures share a universal law that unites us.
• Laborers close to nature reflect a grounded, vital energy.
• Embracing the “commonest” parts of life reveals profound abundance.
• By giving of ourselves freely, we become a living part of nature’s vast tapestry.
